


Unexpected

by mildlyholmes



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Cute, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5351651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mildlyholmes/pseuds/mildlyholmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was supposed to call him when she arrived at the stop outside his building, and he was supposed to pick her up and lead her upstairs before proceeding to press her against the door and kiss her senseless until she was gasping for breath. </p><p>She wasn't supposed to get lost. </p><p>—Erik/Christine university AU. Fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sitting on my bed, waiting for my laptop to charge before going down to the common area to work on my essays, and found myself looking through some older one-shots. This can be set in my little high school/university AU, but can be read as a standalone as well.
> 
> I've got lots of essays due, but they'll be out of the way on Sunday, so I should be able to work on ATS and have it up by the end of next week. In the meantime, have some fluff!

His phone lit up, blaring the picture of his angel upon the screen. Erik could barely contain his excitement as he answered, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Christine? Are you here?"

Her voice was not sensual and laced with promise as he thought it would have been, but tired and pitched high.  _"_ _Erik?"_ she asked, and he frowned.  _"_ _Hey. Yeah, I'm not there yet. I... uh, I think I may have gotten off at the wrong stop."_

A flood of irritation coursed through him and he pressed a hand to the uncomfortable bulge in his trousers. She really had  _perfect_ timing. "Which stop are you at?"

_"_ _I'm not sure. Bus stop D."_

"Christine, that doesn't narrow it down."

 _"_ _Hey, shut up, okay?"_ her voice snapped through the phone, though he could sense that her anger wasn't directed towards him.  _"_ _Your place is difficult to get to. It's not my fault you're living in the middle of nowhere!"_

"Nadir chose it," he muttered irritably into the phone. His friend, while harbouring good intentions, hadn't been the smartest in selecting accommodation for their university days. Erik had been away during the time, and so had left the job of finding a place to the Iranian with a concise explaination of the layout of their ideal flat (two bedroom, spacious kitchen and living area, quiet surroundings). He hadn't been entirely specific about  _where_  exactly he'd wanted to live.

And Nadir, being the cheap idiot he was, had chosen someplace entirely out of the way from the city.

 _"_ _Erik, it's cold,"_  Christine complained, and over the phone he could hear the faint sounds of wind rushing.

He glanced at the watch; it was nearing midnight. The area he lived in wasn't the safest, and he knew there were plenty of drunkards lurking at this time of night, perfectly capable of taking advantage of a seemingly vulnerable woman. Though he knew Christine was capable of taking care of herself, he didn't want to leave it to chance. It wouldn't be safe for her to make the rest of the journey by herself.

Making up his mind, Erik said with a sigh, "Text me your location. Use your GPS and stay there. Keep warm. I'm coming to get you."

He heard her breathe a sigh of relief.  _"_ _My hero. I love you."_

"I think I love you more," he muttered before hanging up.

And so it was that Erik found himself journeying out onto the empty streets in a cold November night, bundled up in a thick coat and scarf and unbearably, undeniably grumpy.

Though he wasn't sour without cause. He had been on the phone with Christine throughout the night—as how their usual nights were spent—but since Nadir was away for the weekend he had allowed her to tease his imagination with more...  _inappropriate_ subjects. Listening to her voice, smooth and silky and hidden with unspoken promises, was enough to indefinitely arouse him to no end. He had found himself hard and suddenly wanting for her, and immediately invited her over when she complained about Meg being in for the night. She had agreed enthusiastically and he had found himself pacing his room, checking his drawers for protection and barely able to contain his anticipation to see her.

She was supposed to call him when she arrived at the stop outside his building, and he was supposed to pick her up and lead her upstairs before proceeding to press her against the door and kiss her senseless until she was gasping for breath.

She wasn't supposed to get  _lost_.

He trudged along sourly, golden eyes alert and scanning the street signs. She wasn't far, now—he only hoped she was able to keep warm.

At long last, he found himself approaching the bus stop and sure enough, there she was. Sitting on the edge of the seat, Christine looked as if she were struggling to refrain from shivering. She was dressed in a thin coat, her hands stuffed into the pockets to keep them from the chill. Her neck was bare and vulnerable to the cool night. Her nose was adorably red, her cheeks flushed from the cold.

"I keep telling you to buy yourself a new coat," Erik reprimanded as he approached her, and she looked up, startled out of her reverie. His fingers reached for the cashmere scarf he wore, removing it to tenderly wind it around her neck. Her eyes immediately lit up to see him here, crinkling in amusement as she responded,

"The good ones are expensive! I'm saving up."

"I could get one for you, you know," he shrugged. Though he couldn't be considered  _wealthy_ , he still managed to budget on his costs, and combined with his part-time job of playing as an accompanist and the regional theatre company, he found himself with a large influx of funds to last through the next few months.

Christine, however, looked appalled. "No!" she protested. "I can't take your money, Erik. I'll get one... eventually."

"Well, Christine, that's absolutely  _wonderful_ , but won't guarantee your survival during winter."

"Hey—cut the attitude, Devereux. Besides," she grinned, standing and winding her arms around his waist, "then I'd get to use your warm clothes."

He rolled his eyes but dropped an affectionate kiss to her curls. "Thief."

"You love me."

"I do, unfortunately. Come—I don't want you catching a cold."

He grasped his hand in hers, infusing her with the warmth of his skin, and began to walk in the direction he had come from. The hint of a smile curled at his lips to feel her lean against him as they strolled through the night, her arms possessively clinging onto his.

She was cold and needed to warm up—would probably prefer to curl up against him with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. The night wouldn't end the way he expected it to, he knew.

But as Christine tugged at his arm, stopping for a moment to plant an appreciative kiss on his lips before they proceeded on, Erik thought that the events of the night hadn't turned out that bad.


End file.
